


Tension

by grogu-pascal (venusx)



Series: Cult AU [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Breaking Celibacy Vows, Breeding Kink, Cult Member Din Djarin, Din Djarin is a Brat Tamer, Experienced reader, F/M, Implied Age Gap, Misogyny Kink, Non-Con Element At End, Not Beta'd, Rough Sex, Sexual Frustration, Shame, Simp Din Djarin, Unhealthy Relationships, Wife Kink, Yandere Din Djarin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-19
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:20:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28179738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/venusx/pseuds/grogu-pascal
Summary: Din notes how pretty you look like this: all fucked out and on display. Absentmindedly wonders if you've ever looked this pretty for anyone else.
Relationships: Din Djarin/Reader
Series: Cult AU [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2029819
Comments: 35
Kudos: 273





	Tension

A bead of sweat trickles down the stretch of your shoulder as you struggle to keep pace. Din is _pumping_ and _pumping_ and _pumping_ and each meeting of his hip against the flesh of your ass provokes your mind further into thoughtlessness. His skin is scorching against yours and his mouth is just as fiery: mumbling curses against your skin; muttering praises into your hair. 

You fumble to remember exactly what had gotten you in this position: panting like a whore on all fours, tears of mascara hot on your cheeks. The two of you had been at this since the mandalorian returned to the Crest earlier, silent and sweaty and trailing in mud. Maybe you had mumbled something about keeping the floors clean. Maybe he had lowered his voice in return; warned you about watching that smart mouth of yours. 

But deep down you knew that this flame had been lit weeks ago. You had been poking and prodding at his fire, leaving sparks in your wake. You wanted him to engulf you. To have him burn him down with it. And here you are, teetering on the edge of orgasm and exhaustion, littered with bruises and love bites, desire blushing red on your skin. 

An ill-timed thrust makes you grapple forward, sliding your knees away from him. You can feel the way he stills at the sudden removal of your warmth from his length, but pay no mind, taking the lapse in fucking to lazily brush your fingers across your swollen lips, massaging away the dull pain his stretching has given you. 

Din notes how pretty you look like this: all fucked out and on display. Absentmindedly wonders if you've ever looked this pretty for anyone else. As he watches you steady your breath, he finds himself grappling for sympathy. Guilt tickles at his nape, tries to swallow his psyche whole, but then he remembers how you two got here: with your tongue hot on ingratitude and his patience wearing; tension thick and building within the confines of the ship. Skirts too short and gazes too long.

And so he lines himself up at your entrance, selfishly plunging his cock back into your slick. An intelligible cry falls from your lips. Something about behaving. About speaking respectfully and lowering your voice. But the mandalorian is past pleas. He knows he'll regret how rough he's been: pulling your jaw forward to work his cock down your throat, ghosting gloved fingers over your clit until you beg him for release, gripping your hips so hard he kneads the bones beneath. 

Despite himself, he excuses his actions and blames you instead. If you wore less skimpy tunics and said thank you every now and then, maybe he could gather the restraint to be a more decent man right now. 

But his pity for you has worn too thin, and he's too enthralled in the clench of your cunt around him to let up.

You're begging his name now, promising how good you'll be for him—how you'll shut up and listen when he speaks; how dinner will be ready when he gets home; how you'll never curse at him again and it's all a fucking lie and you know it and he knows it but _maker_ you'll say anything to feel his fingers dance around your clit again. 

Pain needles its way across your scalp as Din winds the silk of your hair into a ponytail around his fist, sending your body forward with a thrust. Your arms are flat in front of you now and the cool metal of the ship presses against your tits, hardening you nippes through your tunic.

Two of his fingers jett in front of your face expectantly. "Suck," he says. You obey, lips slobbering over his digits, coating them with saliva all the way down to the rough of his knuckle. It's difficult to even keep them in your mouth. With each thrust they fumble around, pressing against your teeth, tempting a gag from your throat. You don’t know how much longer you can keep it up until he removes them without a word, trailing them down the lips of your pussy. He circles them slowly once they reach your bead. The pressure excites you enough to force your hips back down onto him, moaning loudly. You hear the wetness of your pussy sob against the air as he alternates speed. You are dizzy with desire.

“Din," you moan through gritted teeth, "please." 

"Can't you"—his voice cracks—"take it?"

 _"Nng,"_ you manage, shaking your head. "Can't. Need to cum." Din is too much and not enough right now. Pain begins to seep into your pleasure as you him ride indelicately. You are stretched beyond belief and it's beginning to feel like too much. 

"Be patient," he replies cooly, voice taut and clipped.

His tone brings a fire to your chest. Who is he to tell you to be patient? Acting like he hasn't been fucking into you for 30 minutes. Like it wasn't he who stripped you bare with hands full of urgency in the first place. You _have_ been patient but he is pushing you to wits end.

You speak before the words can be bitten back into your chest. "M-me?" you say incredulously. "I'm not the one who c-couldn't wait 'til marriage."

Din fumes under his helmet at your provocation. He releases his tight grip on your hair and brings a hand to your jaw. "That mouth," he sheaths inside you fully, "is what got you here in the first place."

Secretly, he hates that you're right. But hates you a little more for it. Despite your ways, the mandalorian had been planning on bringing you back home with him soon. You were young and smart and quick to learn, he reasoned, and the attitude you constantly found yourself with could be trained out of you. You _could_ be a good wife: cooking and cleaning and flittering about with his younglings. Unbeknownst to you, the two of you were scheduled to meet with the armorer during your visit. Maybe once she saw the value you held: all plush and young and fertile, the armorer would grant his request for an _aruetii_ -mandalorian marriage.

But, as he was balls deep in you at _this_ moment—things had changed.

In consummating you before marriage, he had broken a tenant of his creed. Pending this lapse in celibacy, he would need to wait to bring you back with him. _Maybe_ , he pondered, _8 months or so_. It was one thing to return with a non-Mandalorian, but one that already been used? Fucked open before the ceremony? That wouldn't do. Unless there were extenuating circumstances. Like a youngling, growing inside of you.

"Please, Din," you say, snapping him from his thoughts. He slows his pace to hear you over the percussion his hips make against your ass. "I'll be good for— _aghh—_ good for you Din."

Two beats pass before he answers, "I know you will."

There it is again, that cool fucking attitude. You'd turn around and maul him for it if you weren't so wrecked. You're trying so hard to be good for him and just take it, but your tits are freezing against the metal floor, and your hips are stretched past reason with your back arched so deeply. Your mind fumbles for a sentence that will make him let up on you, and fails. "S-so much—” you manage, slurring through your arousal "—so full." You release a shoulder from the ground and tuck a hand to feel at your stomach. The rumble of his cock jostles through your body, resonating against your palm as he ruts in and out and in and out of your pussy.

Din watches the scene closely. His cock jumps at the thought of ruining you for anyone else. He lowers his chest to your back as he pumps and _fuck_ , the sound of your slick mingles with the curses that fumble out of your mouth and he could come buried inside of you like this.

"Y-you need this," he says, thoughts breaking free into speech. Electricity bundles up in his limbs and a groan, higher than you've ever heard him speak, escapes his helmet. "Need me to fill you up. Fuck my come into your l-little..." his voice trails off and he clenches his eyes shut with pleasure, head tilted back and jaw tight. His voice strains and it all sounds like a prayer to you, hearing how perfect you are at taking his cock.

His hands are desperate now, clawing at the flesh of your tits. You yelp as he rolls your nipple in between his fingers harshly. With a moan, he starts again. "You know," a pause, "you're made for this." The cool of his helmet presses into your ear as his voice deepens. "Made for spilling my seed inside. M-made to be taken care of. That's the way things are supposed to be." Your eyes widen beneath him as your arousal wears away at his suggestion. Your last monthly had been a week ago and Din had promised he would get you a refill on _Kashyyyk_.

A promise that had not yet been kept. "

Wait Din," you say, neck contorting over your shoulder to look at him. "I'm not on my birth control."

He doesn't slow. 

"Yeah. Yeah, I know," he groans, eyes searching into yours as his balls tighten. He's _sorry, sorry, sorry,_ somewhere deep down, and yet, he can't stop. "J-just gonna have to fucka baby into you." Newfound adrenaline fills you, helps as you try to scramble out from under him but it's not enough to stop him as he bottoms out, cock stuffing into you. Your fighting sends him over, groans quieting into whimpers as he holds you pinned beneath him. His orgasm coats your insides, cock flexing against your tightness. 

You stay there for some time, flooded with exhaustion and something that feels like worry until he rustles above you, turning your whole body to face him. His spend leaks out of you at the sudden movement. His touch is gentler now as he caresses your waist. His face is obscured by beskar, and yet, you hear his grin as his fingers run over your belly. "Can't wait to get you back to the Tribe."

**Author's Note:**

> Liked it? 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘃𝗲 𝗸𝘂𝗱𝗼𝘀. Got something to say? 𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩!
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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